Part 23

There was one vase higher than my Josiah, that the handles of it was clear dragons, and nothin’ else, and a row of wimmen a dancin’ round it, each one carryin’ a rose in her hand bigger than her head, and up the sides of it was foxes in men’s clothes. And the handles of another vase was a flock of birds settlin’ down on a rock, with a dragon on it, and on top of it a eagle a swoopin’ down onto a snake. There was the most lovely blue and white vases as tall again as my pardner, with gold dragons on ’em; and scarlet and green vases with sandy complected dragons on ’em. Oh, how well acquainted I did git with ’em! I told Josiah I almost wished we could buy a span of ’em to take home with us, to remember Japan by, for she is a example to follow in lots of things. Her patriotism, her enthusiasm in learnin’ is a pattern for Jonesville and other Nations of the world to foller. Better behaved, well-meaniner little men than them Jappaned men (though dark complexioned) I don’t want to see; they are truly gentlemen. To see ’em answerin’ questions so patient and polite, impudent questions and foolish ones and everything, and they a bearin’ it, and not losin’ their gentle ways and courtesy, not gettin’ fractious or worrysome a mite; I hunched Josiah to take notice, and says I, “Josiah Allen you might set at their feet and learn of ’em with advantage to you. China and Japan are both queer, but Japan’s queerness has a imaginative artistic quirl to it that China’s queerness don’t have. Truly the imaginations of them Jappaned men must be of a size and heft that we can hardly realize.”

Leavin’ Japan, I told Josiah I guessed we would not go to Denmark, and he said he might live through it, and he might not, he was so near starved. But he hadn’t hardly got into that country when all of a sudden he laid holt of me and pulled me out one side, and says he:

“Look out my dear Samantha, or you’ll git hurt.”

I looked up and I was most startled for a minute myself, for a man stood there holdin’ a great stun over his head, a lookin’ down as if he was a goin’ to throw it right at our heads. But in a minute I says, “It is a statute, Josiah, it wont hurt us.”

And he cooled down; he hadn’t called me “dear Samantha” before, for over fourteen years; but truly danger is a blister that draws love to the outside. He almost worships me, but like other married men, he conceals it a good deal of the time. His affectionate mean had softened up my own feelins too, so I didn’t stay to Denmark only jest long enough to see some very beautiful crockery, and a large collection of exceedinly curious curiosities from Greenland, and then Josiah and me (at his request) went and took a lunch at a little tarvern right in the buildin’.

I felt kinder disappointed about not stayin’ no longer in Denmark, on account of Hamlet (he come from that neighborhood, you know) and I always did think so much of him, and Ophelia too. I have often heerd Thomas J. read about ’em; and I’ve always thought if they had been let alone they would have done well, for she seemed to think everything of him, and he of her. I got to thinkin’ over her affection and her disappointment while I was eatin’ my dinner. Thinks’es I, love is too sacred and holy a emotion to be dickered and fooled with; it is a great emotion, and ort to be treated greatly and reverently; but their haint a single emotion in the hull line of emotions that is so meddled and fooled round with as this is. Folks that have it seem to be ashamed of it, and other folks make fun of ’em for havin’ it. Curious! you haint ashamed of havin’ gratitude, or pity, or generosity in your heart, and other folks don’t make light of you for havin’ ’em; but when it comes to love, which is the holiest of all, the shadder of the Infinite, the symbol of all that is heavenly and glorious, the brightest reflection we catch on earth of the Divine Nature, folks giggle at it and snicker; curious, very! But I always felt sorry for Ophelia and Hamlet.

Then we sot sail for Egypt. There was a heavy lookin’ wall and gateway, and on each side was a big square column, or pillow, though some tippin’. Over the gate was the flags of Egypt and the United States, green and yeller, red, white, and blue, minglin’ together jest as friendly as the green earth, and red and yeller sunsets, with stars a shinin’ through ’em ever did; and some of the curiousest lookin’ writin’ I ever did see. On each side, amongst lots of other ornaments and things, was two as ancient lookin’ females as I ever see on a bust, and these words printed out in good noble writin’: “The oldest people of the world sends its morning greeting to the youngest Nation.”

As we went in, two Egyptians met us, dressed in their national costume, as loose and baggy as a meal bag, and Josiah looked admirinly at ’em, and says he, “How remarkable they do hold their age, Samantha; they don’t look much older than _I_ do;” and says he in a still more respectful tone, “they must be pretty nigh onto two hundred.”

“What makes you think so, Josiah Allen?” says I.

“Why” says he “you see it wrote out there ‘the oldest people in the world’, and we have ’em here over a hundred.”

Says I, “Josiah Allen if it wasn’t for me how little your tower would elevate you, and inform you;” says I, “it don’t mean them, it means most probable them old wimmen up there on a bust, or mebby it means old sphynx—the old lady who takes care of the pyramids—you know she is old as the hills, and older than lots of ’em.”

Says he “I wonder if that is her handwritin’ clear up over the gateway! I should think she was old by that; I should jest as lives go down to the creek and read duck’s tracks and slate stuns.”

And we see a bust of Pharioh, who was drownded in the Red Sea. A good lookin’ man for one that was twenty-two hundred and fifty years old, and was plagued so much, and went through with what he did. And in another room of the Court we see the man that built one of the pyramids, Cephenes by name,—a feller six thousand years old. Good land! As I looked on him, I felt as if Josiah and me was two of the very smallest drops in a mighty ocian that hadn’t no beginnin’ nor no endin’, no bottom and no shore. I felt almost choked up, and exceedinly curious. From Egypt we went straight into Turkey, and there we saw lots of beautiful articles them Turkeys had made out of olive-wood, and etcetery. We saw pipes with long stems for smokin’ water; Josiah said he’d love to try one of ’em, and I believe he would if it hadn’t been for me. There was a Turkish Bazzar on the grounds where they go to smoke ’em; but I told him almost coldly, that he had better go home and smoke the penstock that he draws water with from the canal; and he give up the idee.

And there was handsome silks of all colors; there was one piece of a soft grey color, that I told Josiah I would love dearly to have a dress of it, and after I said that, that man hurried me along so I didn’t hardly see anything—I s’pose he wanted to git the idee out of my head, for he never seemed easy a minute till he got me out of Turkey back into Portugal. I never felt intimately acquainted with this Nation—I knew our port come from Portugal, and that they raised considerable cork—but I found many handsome things there; splendid paper of all sorts, writin’ paper, and elegant bound books, and some printin’ on satin, invitations to bull fights, and other choice amusements. I told Josiah I should think they would have to be printed on satin to git anybody started to ’em. And jest as I was sayin’ this, a good-lookin’ woman says to me: “Splendid stationery, isn’t it?”

I see she had made a blunder and it was my duty to set her right, so says I to her: “I don’t know as it is any more stationery than paper and books commonly is; they are always stationary unless you move ’em round.”

She looked at me sort o’ wonderin’ and then laughed but kep’ her head up as high as ever. It beats all what mistakes some folks will make and not act mortified a mite; but if _I_ should make such blunders I should feel cheap as dirt. Then we took a short tower into Spain, and we found she had trimmed and ornamented herself beautiful. You could stand for hours a lookin’ at the front of this Nation painted to look like colored marble, and all figured off so emblematical and curious. And then we started for Russia, and we see that if any Nation had done well, and put her best foot forred, she had. Such furs as I see there I don’t never expect to see again.

Such awful sights of silks and velvets, and embroideries in gold! There was one man all embroidered in gold that looked splendid, with a crown of the most brilliant jewels on his head, and another shinin’ one on the table by the side of him; and all round in a border was as many as twenty other gold saints; they looked rich. And then there was all sorts of linen and cotton goods and umberells and everything.

And in Austria and Hungary we see beautiful bent wood furniture of all kinds, and the awfulest sight of kid gloves, and chromos, and oil paintins, and musical instruments, and the most beautiful Bohemian glass anybody ever did see. And it was there we see the biggest opal in the world; it is worth 25,000 dollars, and the man told me it weighed six hundred and two carats.

I spoke right up and says I, “They must be awful small carrots then.”

We didn’t argue with him, but we didn’t believe it, Josiah nor I didn’t, for if the carrots was any size at all, six hundred of ’em would have made more’n two bushels. But it was a noble lookin’ stun, and a crowd of wimmen was round it all the while. I declare I admired some of their jewelry fearfully; Josiah see that I did, and with a anxious mean he hurried me off into Germany. And here we see everything, etcetery and so 4th; makin’ one of the nicest displays to the Sentinal—and jewelry, and gold and silver ware, and ivory ware, of all sorts. There was one case containin’ velvet that was made of glass and velvet, the finest case in the hull Main Buildin’.

But now, havin’ gone the rounds of the Nations, and treatin’ ’em all alike, so they couldn’t one of ’em, call me uppish or proud spirited; politeness bein’ attended to and nobody slighted, I told Josiah that I must git out in the open air and rest off the eyes of my spectacles a little, or I didn’t know what the result would be. My head was in a fearful state; I had seen so much, it seemed as if I couldn’t see nothin’, and at the same time I could see everything, right where it wasn’t, or anywhere. Why, when I would look up in my Josiah’s face, it seemed as if I could see right on his forward, dragons, and pulpits, and on that peaceable bald head I could see (as it were) crockydiles, and storks, and handkerchief pins; my mean must have looked bad. So we hurried out through the crowd, and went out under a venerable tree by the side of the path, and sot down; and anon, or about that time, my spectacles begun to be rested off, and I see clearer, and realized things one at a time, more than I _had_ realized ’em. When I come out of that Main Buildin’, everything was mixed up together to a degree that was almost alarmin’.

But the minute Josiah Allen got rested, he was all rousted up with a new idee. He had catched a sight that day of a Photograph Gallery, and nothin’ to do but he must go and have his picture took.

Says he, “I will go and be took Samantha; sunthin’ may happen that we shall have to go home sudden, and I do want to be took before I leave the village, for I shant probable look so dressy, and have so pretty a expression onto me for some time; I shall make a crackin’ good lookin’ picture, Samantha.”

That man is vain! but I didn’t throw it in his face, I only told him almost coldly to be took if he wanted to. And then he beset me to be took too. Says he, “If you will, we will be holt of hands, or lockin’ arms, or any way.”

But I told him firmly, I was on a tower of Right, and though I expected and lotted on sufferin’ and bein’ persecuted as a P. A., I would not suffer as the foolish ones do; I would not, for nothin’, go into a job I dreaded worse than makin’ soap, or bilein’ sap. But, says I, “I will set here and wait for you.”

So he set off to be took, feelin’ awful neat, and sayin’ to me the last thing, what a crackin’ handsome picture he was a goin’ to make.

That man is as vain as a pea-hen! I sot right there peaceful and considerable composed, though it give me solemn feelins to watch the crowd a passin’ by all the time, no two alike, always a movin’ on, never a stoppin’. They seemed like the waves of a river that was surgin’ right on towards a sea whose name is Eternity; oh, how they kep’ a movin’ on! Liberals from Liberia, Tunicks from Tunis, Sandwiches from Sandwich, Oranges from Orange, Turkeys from Turkey and Poles from Poland; white men, and yeller men, and black men, and red men, and brown men. Oh! what a sight it was to see the endless wave and rush a settin’ on and on forever. And as I see ’em,—though in body I was a settin’ there—I too was one of ’em a bein’ carried on, and floatin’ toward the ocian. I seemed to be kinder dizzy, “a ridin’,” as childern say when they set on a bridge and watch the current sweep by; I was one of the waves, and the river was a runnin’ swift.

[Sidenote: I MEET OLD ACQUAINTANCES]

I hadn’t allegoried (to myself) more than two or three minutes, probable, when I see a form I knew, Jonathan Beans’es ex-wife by name, and a vegetable widow by trade. I rose right up and catched holt of her pin back, and says I, “Jonathan Beans’es ex-wife, how do you do?” she turned round.

“Why Josiah Allen’s wife! is it you?” And we shook hands, and kissed each other, (though I don’t make a practice of it.) And then I told her that Josiah had gone to be took, and I was a waitin’ for him, and she sot right down by me, cousin Bean did. Perhaps you will notice that I say Bean, and not ex-Bean, as formally; she is livin’ with her husband again, so she told me the first thing. Bean has come back, and they are keepin’ a hen dairy in Rhode Island; I asked her if the hens didn’t bother her a fallin’ off in the water, and she said they didn’t; and I told her you couldn’t always tell by the looks of a map how things really was. Then we talked a good deal about the Sentinal, and then I inquired about Miss Astor and the boys; and then we spoke about Alexander, and I told her I felt awful cut down when I heerd he was gone; and then we talked about Alexander’s Widder, and we felt glad to think that it wasn’t likely she would ever be put to it for things to eat or wear, and had a comfortable house to live in, “most a new one,” Miss Bean said.

I told her I was glad she had a house that wouldn’t want shinglin’ right away; it is hard enough to be a Widder without bein’ leaked down on.

And then we meandered off into other friends in the village, and I asked her if Victoria had been cuttin’ up and behavin’?

She said, she guessed my advice had quieted her down. She hadn’t heerd of her actin’ for quite a spell. I felt noble when she told me this, but her very next words made me feel different; I didn’t feel so good as I did. Says she: “Beecher has been talked about some sense you was to the village.”

Says I in a almost dry tone, “I have heerd his name mentioned once or twice durin’ the past few years.”

“I believe he is guilty,” says she with a radiant look.

“Well _I_ don’t,” says I almost warmly. “I don’t believe it no more than I believe my pardner is a drumedary.” And says I firmly, “I will come out still plainer; I don’t believe it no more than I believe Josiah Allen is an ostridge.”

“Oh!” says she with a still more delighted and lively mean, “I never see anybody talked about quite so bad as he has been; and that shows that meetin’ house folks haint no better than common folks.”

Miss Bean is a Nothingarian in good standin’, and loves to see meetin’ house folks brought low; loves it dearly. “Jest think,” says she with that proud and raptuous look on her, “how high he has stood up on a meetin’ house, and how he has been run down it.”

But I interrupted of her by askin’ her this conundrum, in about as cold a tone as they make.

“Miss Bean, which would be apt to have the biggest, blackest shadder at its feet; a mullien stalk, or a meetin’ house?”

“Why, a meetin’ house, of course,” says she.

“Well,” says I, “that is reasonable. I didn’t know,” says I in a very dry tone, “but you would expect to see a shadder as black and heavy as a meetin’ house shadder, a taggin’ along after a mullien stalk. But it wouldn’t be reasonable; the cloud of detraction and envy and malice that follers on at the feet of folks is generally proportioned to their size.” Says I, “Jonathan Beans’es wife, you are not a runnin’ at Henry, you are runnin’ at Religion.”

Says I, “If Christianity can stand ag’inst persecution and martyrdom, if it is stronger than death and the grave, do you s’pose Jonathan Beans’es wife, and the hull Nothingarian church is a goin’ to overthrow it?”

Says I, “Eighteen hundred years ago the unbelievers thought they had hurt it all it could be; they thought they had crucified it, buried it up, and rolled a stun ag’inst it; but it was mightier than death and the grave, it rose up triumphant. And the fires of martyrdom in which they have tried to destroy it ever sense, has only burnt away the chaff; the pure seed has remained, and the waves of persecution in which time and again they have tried to drownd it, has only scattered the seed abroad throughout the world, wafted it to kinder shores: friendlier soils, in which it has multiplied and blossomed a thousand fold more gloriously. And,” says I, “the wave of infidelity that is sweepin’ over it now, will only sweep away the dross, the old dry chaff of dead creeds, superstitions, and bigotry—it can no more harm religion than you can scatter dust on the floor of heaven.”

“Well,” says she, “Sam Snyder’ses wife, she that was Cassandra Bean is a waitin’ for me and I must go.” She looked uneasy, and she told me she would see me the next day, and started off.

And I sot there and waited for Josiah, and when he did come I see he was wore almost completely out, and his mean looked as bad as I ever see a mean look. He didn’t seem to want to talk, but I would make him tell the particulars, and finally he up and told ’em. He said he got into the wrong buildin’—one that had pictures to show off, but didn’t take ’em. But a clever lookin’ feller showed him the way to go to be took, way acrost Agricultural Avenue, and he got into the wrong house there, got into Judges Hall, right where they was a judgin’. He said he never felt so mortified in his life.

“I should think as much,” says I.

But he looked still more deprested, and says he:

“Worse is to come, Samantha.” I see by his looks he had had a tegus time. I see he was completely unstrung, and it was my duty to try to string him up with kindness and sympathy, and so says I almost tenderly, “Tell your pardner all about it Josiah.”

“I hate too,” says he.

Says I firmly, “Josiah, you _must_.”

“Well,” says he. “I got into another wrong room, where some wimmen was a kinder dressin’ ’em.”

“Josiah Allen!” says I sternly.

“Well, who under the sun would have been a lookin’ out for any such thing. Who would think,” says he with a deeply injured air, “that wimmen would go a prancin’ off so fur from home before they got their dresses hooked up, or anything.”

I knew there was a room there a purpose for ladies to go and fix up in, and I says more mildly—for his mean most skairt me—“I persume there was no harm done Josiah, only most probable you skairt ’em.”

“Skairt ’em!” says he. “I should think so; they yelled like lunys.”

“And what did you say?” says I.

“I told ’em,” says he, “I wanted to be took.”

“And what did they say?” says I, for he would keep a stoppin’ in the particulars.

“Oh! they yelled louder than ever; they seemed to think I was crazy, and a policeman come—”

“And what did you tell him?” says I.

“What _could_ I tell him?” he snapped out. “Of course I told him I wanted to be _took_, and he said he’d take me, and he did,” says Josiah sadly. Again the particulars stopped, and again I urged him. And says he: “Comin’ out of that room, and down the steps so awful sudden, got my head kinder turned round, and instead of goin’ into the picture room, I went the wrong way and got into the Japan house.”

“Did you make any move towards gittin’ me a Japaned dust pan?” I interrupted of him.

“No, I _didn’t_! I should think I see trouble enough, without luggin’ round dust pans. I told them I wanted to be took, and they didn’t understand me, and I come right out and offered a boy I see there, five cents to git me headed right, and he did it.”

Josiah stopped here, as if he wasn’t goin’ to speak another word. But says I, “Josiah Allen was you took?”

“_Yes_ I _was_,” he snapped out.

“Lemme see the picture,” says I firmly.

He hung off, and tried to talk with me on religion, but I stood firm, and says I, “You was a lottin’ on a handsome picture, Josiah Allen.”

“Throw that in my face will you, what if I _was_. I’d like to know if you expect a man to have a handsome dressy expression, after he has traipsed all over Pennsylvany, and been lost, and mortified, and helped round by policeman, and yelled at by wimmen. And the man told me after I sot down, to look at a certain knot-hole, and git up a brilliant happy expression, and git inspired and animated. I did try to, but the man told me such a gloomy expression wouldn’t do no how, and says he, ‘my kind friend, you must look happier; think of the beautiful walk you had a comin’ here; think of the happy scenes you passed through.’

“I _did_ think of ’em,” says Josiah, “and you can see for yourselves jest how it looks.”

It truly went ahead of anything I ever see for meachinness, and wretchedness. But I wouldn’t say a word to add to his gloom, I only says in a warnin’ way, “You had better keep by your pardner after this Josiah Allen.” And I added as I heerd the hour a strikin’ from the great clock on Machinery Hall, “It is time for us to go home.” And we went.

WIDDER DOODLE AS A BRIDE.

The next mornin’ we went to the grounds early and walked along the broad, beautiful path (though very warm) and anon, we see through the tall, noble trees on the nigh side of us, beautiful Horticultural Hall a risin’ up lookin’ considerable like some splendid foreign pictures I had seen of Morocco (not Morocco shoes, but jography Morocco); and there I was calmly walkin’ along admirin’ the gorgeous, and stately but delicate and almost dream-like beauty of the structure, when all of a sudden I see a peaceable lookin’ old lady a comin’ along with her hair braided up in one long braid, and her dress cut night-gown fashion; she looked cool and comfortable and was mindin’ her own business, and carryin’ a umberell; and in her other hand she had some things done up in a paper. She was from some of the old countries I knew by her dress and her curious looks—her eyes bein’ sot in sort o’ biasin’, and her complexion was too yeller for health—she wasn’t well; she eat tea-grounds I knew the minute I looked at her; nothin’ will give the complexion that saffrony yeller look that tea-grounds will. And jest as she got most up to us three young fellers begun to impose upon her. They wasn’t men, and they wasn’t childern; they was passin’ through the land of conceitedness, feeble whiskers, and hair-oil.